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In the Vardran family there was no half-stepping when it came to cleaning plates. “Waste not, want not” was the way it went growing up in their household, even if you were a grown man and a well-loved artist who was gaining international status. Duke was now getting contracts with agencies that garnered more money than three generations of his family combined, yet he was still subject to “food interrogation”.
“You know I’ve never liked sweet potatoes, Ma, especially when you put them in that pet milk with brown sugar.” Duke complained.
There on the table, getting cold because of Duke’s protest, were the savory, mandarin-colored sweet potatoes in pet milk, spinach-stuffed chicken with creamed sauce, freshly-baked and buttered wheat rolls, and crisp golden corn.
“Now why, out of all the food I made, do you only have a roll and corn on your plate? How do you explain that?” she questioned.
“I’m a vegan now, Ma. I don’t live the same anymore.”
“I give! Eat what you want, just don’t waste it. Kids of today. So picky, they choose their plates clean.” was the rebuttal.
Hanging on the cinnamon-colored walls were Duke’s humble beginnings as an artist—“The Cherry Blossom Outlook”, “Monie Has It”, and “Ragtime with the Jukebox and Me”. Dad was in the kitchen making spiced tea, and the others were on their way to visit with their younger brother, whom they had not seen in three years.
Returning Home
“You’re too big for us now. You’ve gotten so big, you’ve become an idea.” Duke’s mom tailgated. “How is it that every time you come home you act like you can’t eat my food anymore?”
In the Vardran family there was no half-stepping when it came to cleaning plates. “Waste not, want not” was the way it went growing up in their household, even if you were a grown man and a well-loved artist who was gaining international status. Duke was now getting contracts with agencies that garnered more money than three generations of his family combined, yet he was still subject to “food interrogation”.
“You know I’ve never liked sweet potatoes, Ma, especially when you put them in that pet milk with brown sugar.” Duke complained.
There on the table, getting cold because of Duke’s protest, were the savory, mandarin-colored sweet potatoes in pet milk, spinach-stuffed chicken with creamed sauce, freshly-baked and buttered wheat rolls, and crisp golden corn.
“Now why, out of all the food I made, do you only have a roll and corn on your plate? How do you explain that?” she questioned.
“I’m a vegan now, Ma. I don’t live the same anymore.”
“I give! Eat what you want, just don’t waste it. Kids of today. So picky, they choose their plates clean.” was the rebuttal.
Hanging on the cinnamon-colored walls were Duke’s humble beginnings as an artist—“The Cherry Blossom Outlook”, “Monie Has It”, and “Ragtime with the Jukebox and Me”. Dad was in the kitchen making spiced tea, and the others were on their way to visit with their younger brother, whom they had not seen in three years.